My absolute favorite place on this planet is The House On The Rock, nestled in Spring Green, Wisconsin. It’s a location that often draws blank stares when mentioned, even from Wisconsin natives. Perhaps its elusive nature stems from the sheer impossibility of encapsulating it in words. Its Wikipedia entry describes it as “a complex of architecturally unique rooms, streets, gardens, and shops.” When Alex Jordan, its creator, was asked to describe it, he simply stated, “It is what it is.” This enigmatic essence is likely why the House on the Rock remains somewhat of a hidden gem, its true nature defying easy categorization.
To give you the most concise picture I can conjure: imagine dismantling all of Frank Lloyd Wright’s architectural masterpieces and haphazardly reassembling them onto a generic office park framework. Then, envision emptying the combined permanent collections of the Victoria and Albert Museum and the American Museum of Natural History, blending them with the entire inventory of every thrift store across America, and scattering this chaotic amalgamation throughout this Frank Lloyd Wright-esque office park structure – all without any discernible curation or explanatory guidance. And just for good measure, throw in a colossal, 200-foot-tall sea monster model.
Another factor contributing to its relative obscurity might be the personality of the man behind it. By all accounts, Alex Jordan was, to put it bluntly, a colossal jerk. Not the kind of charismatic, albeit flawed, genius like Walt Disney or Steve Jobs, whose output overshadows their less palatable traits. Jordan was, by all accounts, just a plain and simple unpleasant person, widely disliked.
Before embarking on his House on the Rock endeavor, Jordan’s most notable achievement was a stint in prison for extortion. This stemmed from a honey-trap scheme where he secretly photographed a man during a sexual encounter and then attempted blackmail.
There’s even a book, aptly titled House of Alex, dedicated entirely to chronicling Jordan’s abrasive personality. Tales abound, like the time he barred a female visitor from entering the House on the Rock because, in his estimation, she was too overweight. Or the incident where he attempted to push someone’s car into a lake for the transgression of parking in “his” spot without authorization. And then there was the time he berated his employees for missing work to visit him in the hospital after he had suffered a heart attack.
Jordan commenced construction of his now-famous house in the early 1940s. The location he chose was atop a striking 60-foot-tall sandstone column, a geological feature he stumbled upon while searching for an idyllic picnic spot in the Wisconsin countryside. This natural rock formation became the literal foundation of his life’s work.
Remarkably, Jordan possessed no formal training in architecture or design. Consequently, the House on the Rock, built with the help of friends and acquaintances, was conceived and constructed without formal plans or blueprints. According to the official House on the Rock guide, all building materials and furnishings – including two grand pianos – had to be manually carried or hoisted to the top of the rock until an electric hoist was finally installed in 1952, highlighting the challenging and unconventional nature of the construction.
Jordan opened the doors of the House on the Rock to the public around 1960. This decision was largely driven by his father, who had financially backed the project and was keen to see a return on his investment. In its initial public iteration, the House on the Rock was just that – a house. Admittedly, it was a whimsical dwelling perched dramatically atop a cliff, but it was still recognizably a house, albeit an unusual one.
Since then, it has undergone extensive expansion, morphing into a sprawling complex of rooms that appear to have been conceived and positioned seemingly at random. An indoor street meticulously replicating a Victorian thoroughfare seamlessly transitions into a maritime museum. A vast hall housing the world’s largest carousel, boasting 269 handcrafted animals and a dazzling 20,000 lights, flows into a chamber inspired by Dante’s Divine Comedy. A room dominated by a towering, multi-story Mikado-themed music machine stands adjacent to a space designed to resemble the boudoir of a steampunk brothel madam. The sheer variety and unexpected juxtapositions are part of the attraction’s unique charm.
Perhaps the most breathtaking and iconic space within the House on the Rock is the “Infinity Room.” This dramatic glass-enclosed walkway extends an astonishing 250 feet out from the main rock structure. A significant portion of the room is entirely unsupported,悬空 over the cliff edge, creating the unsettling but exhilarating sensation of being precariously balanced, almost reminiscent of the RV lab scene in Jurassic Park 2. This architectural marvel provides stunning views and a palpable sense of daring.
Every room within the House is crammed with an overwhelming quantity of objects. Jordan reportedly reinvested all profits from the attraction directly back into expanding his collections. This constant acquisition and expansion contributed to the eclectic and somewhat chaotic nature of the exhibits.
There is no overarching theme unifying the vast collection. Jordan simply acquired items that piqued his interest, drawing inspiration from a multitude of disparate sources. Scattered throughout the house, visitors encounter dollhouses (purportedly the world’s largest collection), Titanic memorabilia, puppets, model trains, glassware, Venetian masks, billboards, ivory carvings, silverware sets, seashells, fur garments, and tankards – the list is virtually endless. Exploring these collections is akin to stepping into the surreal landscape of Jennifer Lopez’s mind in The Cell. Every whim and fascination of Jordan seems to be indulged and materialized, making a visit to the house feel like a journey inside his very psyche.
Intriguingly, very little within the attraction’s immense collections is labeled or explained. Originally, explanatory text was present, but Jordan was compelled to remove all signage in the 1970s. This followed revelations that many items were not genuine artifacts but rather fakes or forgeries, and his descriptions – which often portrayed the house as brimming with rare treasures – were, to put it mildly, exaggerations.
These fabricated items remain on display, intermingled with authentic pieces. Consequently, as you navigate the House on the Rock, discerning the genuine from the imitation, the old from the new, becomes an impossible task. Some items are clearly whimsical creations designed to evoke fantasy, such as the cannonball-powered clock or the elaborate two-story Rube Goldberg machine. Others, like a prosthetic leg concealing a hidden gun compartment, are unsettlingly ambiguous, blurring the lines between reality and fabrication.
Alex Jordan passed away in 1989 at the age of 75. For the most part, the attraction remains largely unchanged since his death, a preserved testament to his singular vision. Shortly before his passing, he described the House as “everything I ever loved.” In a final act of personal connection to his creation, his ashes were scattered across the grounds from an aircraft flying low overhead.
The labyrinthine accumulation of possessions he left behind is undeniably messy, often confusing, and a curious blend of the unattractive and the beautiful. Yet, it paints a far more complete and nuanced portrait of a person than any conventional biography or carefully curated museum ever could. Because we, as humans, are complex beings, containing a multitude of elements that, ultimately, may not entirely make logical sense when viewed as a whole. The House on the Rock, in its bewildering entirety, reflects this fundamental truth about the human condition.
